The Value of Proper Tailoring
by mosylu
Summary: Caitlin keeps telling Cisco he should wear more flattering clothes, not so baggy or loose. When he drags her along to get his suit fitted for a fancy occasion, she gets a taste of what it would be like if he did. She may never recover.


(A/N) Inspired by that damn suit in the preview reel, you know the one.

* * *

"All right, I'm coming out and you're not allowed to laugh," Cisco yelled.

"I'm sure you look very nice," she called back, not lifting her eyes from her tablet. She really wanted to finish this article. She'd been stop-starting it for a week.

"Serious, don't laugh."

"Why would I laugh?" She highlighted a section she wanted to come back to.

"I don't know, I feel stupid."

"Just come on," she said, scribbling a note to herself in her notebook. She stuck the pen in her mouth and kept reading, idly chewing the end.

He'd begged her to come along to get his suit fitted for Barry and Iris's wedding. "C'mon, Barry's got a thing, and I'm gonna feel like such a tool if I have to go alone. And you know fashion … stuff," he'd added, gesturing at her sheath dress and high heels. "Please?"

She'd given in, promising herself that she was going to work on her backlog of saved journal articles while she waited. She was frowning over what was, in her opinion, a rather dubious conclusion when Cisco cleared his throat.

She looked up.

The pen fell out of her mouth.

After a minute, he sighed. "Aw. I do look stupid."

She shook herself. "No! No. You, um, you look very smart actually."

"Huh?"

"I mean - uh - I mean in the, in the British sense of the word, as in well-dressed and appropriate to the occasion."

"Two questions. One, are you channeling Felicity? And two, if you are, does that mean she's dead? Because you'd think I'd know that first."

She huffed and got to her feet. The forgotten pen clattered from her lap to the floor. "Turn around. No, slower. Let me see."

He wheeled slowly, letting her take in the three-piece suit. It fit perfectly. This store did good work. The jacket fell just right, skimming down the line of his torso, and the pants continued on down his legs, the hem breaking perfectly on the tops of his shiny shoes. He looked sleek and put-together and about five years older than he usually did, and just - well -

Her face felt hot. Why did her face feel hot? That was strange.

"Anything else?" he asked, gloriously oblivious to her confusion. "Want me to take a turn on the catwalk? Do that thing where I take off my jacket and sling it over my shoulder?"

"That's a good suggestion," she said briskly. "Take off the jacket. I want to see how the waistcoat fits."

"The vest?"

"It's a - " She caught his grin and rolled her eyes. "Yes, the vest."

He unbuttoned the jacket and shrugged it off, and she took it from him and settled it properly over the back of a chair. He probably would have dropped it on the floor.

She turned back to him and blinked a few times. "You went with the pinstripes," she said.

He ran his hands down his front. "Figured I should class it up a little. My best bud only gets married once. In this universe." He grinned his crooked, secret grin at her, the one that said, _in other universes? Hooo, I'm gonna tell you all about it in the car._

"Well, they're very flattering." Unable to stop herself, she reached out and tugged at the points, pulling the waistcoat straight. Something about the way it snugged to his ribs made her want to smooth her hands down the satiny material. She cleared her throat. "You really should wear more fitted clothes, Cisco, I tell you all the time. You know, you could be a captain of industry, dressed like this."

For some reason, he winced. "I don't wanna be a captain of industry. I just want to get through this wedding without making a fool of myself."

"You won't make a fool of yourself!" Not looking like that, he wouldn't. "You look very, um, handsome, honestly. I'm just saying, this is what proper tailoring can do for you."

"Sure, I'll go home and tailor all my t-shirts."

"Well, just stop buying them a size up from what you really need. And maybe hem some of your pants so they're not so baggy. This - " She tugged at the waistcoat again. "This really emphasizes the breadth of your shoulders." She flicked her fingers across them.

"And the pooch of my belly," he said, slapping it. "Nah, I'm cool with my usual style."

"Well, you'll look very nice for the wedding, anyway."

"And don't worry, I'll tie my hair back."

"What? Why?"

"Them's the rules. Weddings, funerals, and job interviews. You really want me to schlub up this classy suit with my hair all loose?"

"Actually, I - I think the suit is plenty classy enough without you having to tie your hair back." She started to touch the ends of his hair and remembered he didn't like that from anyone he wasn't kissing. She dropped her hand, her face going hot again. "It, um, it balances out. And if you tie your hair back, people might not know it was you."

"Mmmm. Good point." He checked himself out in one of the mirrors, running his fingers through his hair, studying the full effect. "All right, but I'm siccing you on my mama when she sees the pictures on Facebook."

"Fair enough," she said.

"Are we done? Can I get back into my real clothes?"

 _Nooooooo_ , she thought, because his cargo pants and Rogue One tee fell loose and baggy and hid the line of his back, the way it narrowed from his shoulders down to his waist, the way his spine curved in to the small of his back, curving out again to his -

She cleared her throat. "Yes. Fine. Go ahead." She spun around to where the tailor and his counter clerk were watching the whole show. "Thank you, gentlemen. You have the date of the wedding? They'll be here to pick everything up - "

"The day before, we have it right here, ma'am," the tailor said. He went into the fitting room with Cisco to make sure the suit didn't end up in a pile on the floor, and Caitlin sank back down on her chair and started gathering everything together - tablet and pens and notebook and -

Except she had to take a moment to breathe first.

FINIS


End file.
